


priorities

by lynnpaper (27beansprouts)



Series: obikin ficlets [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Ahsoka Tano is a Little Shit, Fluff, Implied Smut, M/M, obikin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-17 17:15:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29103906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/27beansprouts/pseuds/lynnpaper
Summary: Ever so slowly, he slides his arms around Obi-Wan’s waist, resting his chin on Obi-Wan’s shoulder, on the layers of soft robes (which he’ll definitely get rid of later, but that’s not important right now.)
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker
Series: obikin ficlets [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2129010
Comments: 12
Kudos: 158





	priorities

**Author's Note:**

> she did it..... she really used "rail me into a mattress"  
> 
> 
> based on a prompt from [obiwanobi](https://obiwanobi.tumblr.com/post/618840394185211904/can-i-get-some-soft-fluffy-super-sweet-obikin) on tumblr!

Sometimes Obi-Wan regrets trusting Anakin with so much information. For example, letting him have the code to his room. It’s useful sometimes, such as when he sneaks over in the middle of the night for a few hours of very enjoyable, very illegal ‘activities.’ But it’s times like this when he can’t help but wonder how peaceful his life would be in the absence of a certain blue eyed, blond haired, _very_ attractive Jedi Knight.

“Ah, yes,” Anakin remarks, not even bothering to knock before he saunters in. “The Negotiator in his natural habitat.” Obi-Wan’s back is facing him but Anakin is absolutely sure he’s rolling his eyes.

Anakin walks up to where Obi-Wan stands at the counter, swiping through a datapad with one hand, cup of tea in the other. _Typical_.

Ever so slowly, he slides his arms around Obi-Wan’s waist, resting his chin on Obi-Wan’s shoulder, on the layers of soft robes (which he’ll definitely get rid of later, but that’s not important right now.)

“Anakin, I’m busy,” Obi-Wan complains, but it’s half-hearted, and he makes no attempt to push Anakin’s head away. Anakin nuzzles his neck, nipping the side, then kissing the bite to soothe the hurt.

“ _Anakin_ ,” Obi-Wan says, exasperated, but Anakin can hear the breathlessness in his voice and the way his breath hitches when Anakin licks the spot just below his ear.

Obi-Wan tilts his head back onto Anakin’s shoulder, eyes falling shut, and exhales slowly. Anakin is gripping his waist with bruising force, and he knows there would be red fingerprints if not for the layers of clothing between them. Anakin takes the chance to kiss a trail from under his ear to the base of his throat, slipping his hands under Obi-Wan’s tunic.

“Come to bed,” Anakin murmurs, hot breath tickling his ear. Obi-Wan shivers. Force knows he wants to drop everything he’s doing and comply, but he has priorities right now. Anakin will just have to wait until tonight.

“Let me finish this report —“

“Kriff the report,” Anakin interrupts, taking the datapad from his master and setting it down next to the cup of tea.

Giving up, Obi-Wan turns around to face Anakin, his back to the counter. Anakin grins, knowing he’s won, and surges forward greedily to meet Obi-Wan’s lips, parting his own. Obi-Wan makes a low sound of approval in his throat, fingers carding through Anakin’s hair, and Anakin leans forward until the hard edge of the counter is pressing against Obi-Wan’s lower back.

“I’ll come to bed,” Obi-Wan says breathlessly, once he’s done stealing the oxygen from Anakin’s lungs, “if you promise to let me finish these reports before tomorrow.”

Anakin shrugs. “You know I don’t make promises,” he says simply, before capturing Obi-Wan in another forceful kiss, pulling at his robes to drag him into the bedroom.

Between the sensation of Anakin’s mouth on his skin and the heat pooling in his stomach, Obi-Wan doesn’t exactly remember what happens next, but somehow they both end up bare-chested on the bed, Anakin straddling Obi-Wan’s hips. They must have been at it for quite some time, Obi-Wan imagines, considering the sheen of sweat on Anakin’s body and the flush of his cheeks.

Obi-Wan runs a hand down Anakin’s sculpted chest, heaving with heavy breaths. Full lips puffy and parted, sweaty curls hanging over fierce, wild eyes, he looks ethereal. Some infernal demon, harbinger of ecstasy.

“You’re irresistible,” he breathes, tracing the chiseled lines of Anakin’s abdomen.

“I know,” Anakin replies, and leans down to kiss Obi-Wan again, their fingers interlaced like puzzle pieces. Anakin pins Obi-Wan’s hands to the mattress next to his head, roughly licking into his mouth, and Obi-Wan turns to liquid under the relentless onslaught of pleasure.

It’s a bit irritating that they’re both still clothed from the waist down.

“You want to…?” Obi-Wan offers, shifting his hips suggestively under Anakin’s. Anakin clenches his jaw, eyes screwed shut, groaning quietly as he pushes himself up on unsteady arms and hangs his head between his shoulders — clearly torn between exercising self-restraint and letting himself come unhinged.

“Save it for later, Obi-Wan,” he grits out.

“No ‘dear one?’ No ‘old man?’ My goodness, you’re really in the mood,” Obi-Wan says, grinning despite the fact that he’s pinned under a very heavy, very aroused Jedi.

Said Jedi groans, rolling to the side to lie next to Obi-Wan, then throws and arm and leg over him.

Obi-Wan is silent for a moment, then decides this is his chance. With great difficulty, he shoves Anakin’s heavy limbs off his own body.

“Since you’re not going to rail me into the mattress, you can pass me that datapad.”

Anakin glares at him, scandalised. “Seriously?”

“What?”

“We’ve just spent the better part of an hour _making out_ and being terrible Jedi, and _that’s_ what you’re thinking about?”

“Duty calls, my dear padawan.”

“One, I’m not your padawan anymore. Two, I never said I _wasn’t_ going to — what was it — _rail_ you into a mattress.” He looks pointedly at Obi-Wan’s pants, and Obi-Wan has the sense not to writhe under Anakin’s heated gaze.

“One, you’ll always be my padawan. Two, I told _your_ padawan she could stop by tonight because I owe her five credits."

“Why do you _owe_ Ahsoka anything?”

“Lost a bet.”

“Since when do you _gamble with my padawan?!_ ”

“Since we started betting on how many speeders you’ll crash in a week.”

“ _Obi-Wan_ ,” Anakin whines, reaching for him with grabby hands, and Obi-Wan rolls over to the side, away from the warmth of Anakin’s arms.

“ _Anakin_ ,” he mimics, glaring back at those _stupid_ puppy eyes and _gorgeous_ bare chest.

Anakin lunges at him and catches his lips again, and Obi-Wan doesn’t even try to resist. Anakin runs his hands possessively over Obi-Wan’s torso, coaxing another gasp out of him.

Just as Anakin is about to slip a hand under the waistband of Obi-Wan’s pants, there is a knock on the door.

“Karking hell,” Anakin groans, jerking away from where his lips are pressed against Obi-Wan’s.

“Language,” Obi-Wan scolds, and Anakin rolls onto his back, throwing a hand over his eyes and grumbling under his breath.

“Master Kenobi?” comes the chirpy, telltale voice of his padawan.

Obi-Wan curses silently and Anakin practically falls off the bed as they scramble to put on their clothes which have been discarded at various points around the room. Anakin manages to make himself slightly more presentable first (if he can call his dishevelled hair and crumpled tunic _presentable_ ) and sprints to the door, opening it slightly too quickly not to be suspicious.

“Hey, Snips,” he says with a grin, trying to hide the the fact that he’s breathing more heavily than normal. Ahsoka squints at him dubiously and attempts to peer over his shoulder into the room.

She frowns. “What are you doing in Master Kenobi’s —“

Obi-Wan decides to emerge right at that moment, looking marginally less unkempt than her master.

“Hello, dear,” he says, in the same tone used to address senators on diplomatic missions. Anakin turns around and scowls at him.

“Credits,” Ahsoka says, holding out her palm.

Obi-Wan sighs and drops them into her hand. Anakin has never seen his padawan look so smug.

“Bet for next week?” she says.

“Let’s do how many things he blows up,” Obi-Wan replies, as if this conversation is the most normal thing in the galaxy, and Anakin isn’t standing right next to him looking very offended.

“Five,” Ahsoka says.

“I say six.”

“Three,” Anakin interjects. “And I want ten credits if I win.”

“You’re going to be a poor man very soon, Skyguy,” Ahsoka says.

“Hey!”

Ahsoka giggles, and to his horror, Obi-Wan fist bumps — _fist bumps_ — his padawan.

“Bye,” she chirps, and skips down the hallway like a youngling who’s just been given candy and not a padawan who’s just won a bet against a Jedi Master.

The moment she’s gone, Anakin glares at Obi-Wan with a look that screams _traitor,_ while Obi-Wan tries very hard not to laugh out loud.

“I say,” Obi-Wan offers, “I should really finish those mission reports.”

“I say,” Anakin responds, “we should finish what we started.”

“What _you_ started, dear one.”

“Same difference.”

Less than an hour later, they’re back on the bed in exactly the same positions they were in previously, now wearing slightly fewer articles of clothing. Obi-Wan never finishes those mission reports.

**Author's Note:**

> can't write smut, Can't Write smut, tryin real hard but Can't Write Smut 
> 
>   
> do scream at me in the comments or offer any and all forms of criticism! my inbox is really the only thing keeping me going right now (and also Farm Fresh Natural Plain Yogurt) 
> 
> (or find me on tumblr as [lynnpaper](https://lynnpaper.tumblr.com/)!)


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